Silver Spoons
by MusketeerAdventure
Summary: Summary: After an unexpected encounter, Clay struggles to put the past behind him; so concentrates on setting new goals. Sonny's heroics lead to an unintended complication. This is my take on the episode, 'You Only Die Once".


Silver Spoons

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: After an unexpected encounter, Clay struggles to put the past behind him; so concentrates on setting new goals. Sonny's heroics lead to an unintended complication. This is my take on the episode, 'You Only Die Once".

* * *

Wheels were up; the mission briefings complete. All he wanted to do now was get some rest so he would be prepared to show his stuff.

Only rest wouldn't come. His body was exhausted, but his thoughts ran unbridled and would not stop yakking at him. Rubbing his eyes, he groaned; sighed with exasperation, and then stared up at the ceiling.

The rumbling sounds of the engine which usually brought him peace were now an irritant. His hammock felt constricting. The lights weren't dim enough. Aggravated, he sniped quietly, "Shit", and rolled out of his hammock. Sonny's snoring was the last straw.

Abandoning the attempt to sleep, Clay stalked the C-17 like a caged animal; as unpleasant memories hounded his every move.

Wringing his hands, he supposed he would never forget that moment. The surprise encounter on the sidewalk that made it clear to him, that going back was no longer an option. Starting over was out of the question. Being friends was not in the cards. How could they be friends after all this?

Instead of reconciliation, he would always remember that street, that bakery; what coffee he was drinking – his awkwardness; her voice when she quietly said, "It was good to see you", with to his ear, no hint of regret.

As she walked away his heart hardened just a bit more.

Running into her that way did something to him. The unexpected nature of it jolted him out of his false sense of normalcy. In that place where he convinced himself that everything was okay. However, now he knew. They would never get back together; he was not over her and would not be for a long time…maybe not ever.

In that brief moment of contact everything seemed to have shifted a degree. The sunlight noticeably dimmed; the wind blew stronger and made him shiver; his perspective skewed and blurred his vision, making it harder to see through the scope of how he thought the trajectory of his life would be – altering his aim.

Several weeks had passed since he had last seen her at his door. Painful, true things had gone unsaid between them. His refusal to break down and beg her to stay at the time seemed a monumental mistake, but in hindsight – the right decision.

At the time, he had stood on fragile ground; afraid to move left or right, lest the ground beneath crumbled and swallowed him whole. It was important to stay centered, in the middle, where the earth was steady and would not give way.

He was doing that, had tried to move on…to let her go.

Over the last weeks, now months, he thought maybe he had gotten over the hump. He didn't dream about her as much, and had recently stopped hearing her sing in the shower. She came up in idle conversation less and less. Her friends had stopped calling his cell phone, expecting her to be somewhere nearby.

He had finally been able to see other people without feeling angry or disloyal about it. Images of her hand in hand with someone else no longer plagued him. Stella had slowly but surely begun to take up residence in the murky background of memories dedicated to his childhood, Ash and other trauma induced events.

Life was moving on…so he thought.

Now after seeing her again, the truth was out in the open between them, and to be honest it stung. He felt an ugly urge to strike out; exact some sort of revenge on his unhappiness and the source of it. But it wasn't all her fault was it?

Because even now her smile eased his pain; thoughts of their last embrace had his heart racing and wondering what life would be like now if he had chosen her. Yes, most definitely, if she had asked, he would have chosen her. Sighing deeply he thought aloud, "What if?"

Thoughts running rampant, Clay considered how he was changing. His skin was tougher; empathy seemed to come few and far between. Clamping down on his emotions had become second nature and surprisingly easy. This state of mind he found himself trapped in was all consuming and driving him nuts.

He didn't want to be this way. He missed his old self; but found it harder and harder to conjure that guy up…almost impossible to sustain him.

To stave off insanity, he knew that he needed to concentrate on one thing. Erase all thoughts of anything to do with anything outside of his career. He needed to push Stella aside for good as he had done with Ash, with Brian…with Adam. He just needed to suppress all those mixed up feelings and focus on what he could control.

To be the best.

Boss said he had what it took to lead. The man's rare praise gave him a huge boost of confidence. He wouldn't have said it, if he didn't mean it. All he needed was just more experience; to concentrate totally on being the best SEAL possible.

He would volunteer more; speak up…give his take on things; show more of what he could do and how much he had learned from his brief experience as number two. He would pick Boss' brain, follow Sonny's lead, study Ray's cool demeanor under pressure.

This he could control.

It's all he ever wanted anyway. No need for outside complications. Whatever he had with Stella was over now. Seeing her again only emphasized it more clearly. She had made her choice and took his with her. Now he would make new choices and would be the better for it.

When he rounded the aircraft for the third time, Sonny called out in a gravelly voice, "Okay Simba, would you please stop prowling this pen? The rest of us need to sleep."

Acquiescing, Clay climbed into his hammock and within moments was out like a light.

* * *

The 20 click trek along the Iran-Afghanistan border was arduous, but gave Clay time to reflect. And once they erected their sniper hide and settled in he could absolutely fool himself into believing that all was well.

Things had been so quiet for the past several hours. The air smelled fresh; the sky was clear – the wind blew briskly and gently leaned into their fabric hide outs then trickled beneath the flaps. He was actually content as Sonny's cracker challenge lifted his spirits causing him to laugh uncontrollably as bits and pieces of crumbs tumbled from his mouth. He hadn't laughed like that in a long time.

It felt good. But just as the hours rolled by languidly with no sign of their target, suddenly everything changed in an instant.

Boys flying kites, the target in sight…cover blown; pinned down in the open – gunfire and mortars erupting; boss and Ray separated from them by 300 meters.

"Incoming", Sonny yelled at his side. As he covered his head, and curled up in a ball, the ground imploded and shook with force. Dirt and rocks pelted them about the body. With a brief moment of reprieve Clay regained his position along with his team mates, and returned fire with extreme accuracy.

Above the warring fray Clay could see the Marine QRF coming over the horizon annihilating the enemy forces while attempting to land. Below he could just make out Boss and Ray through the smoke heading in their direction – mission complete. Boss yelling over the comm for Bravo to "move, move, move."

The noise was deafening as Marines spilled out of helos , falling to their knees, taking up a protective perimeter gesturing for Bravo to "move it, move it, move it." and get to the transport.

But once given the order, Clay stopped in his tracks. They couldn't just leave…could they?

Boss and Ray needed cover; and they were closer…he was closer. So he stood ready to run toward their position. He was fast…could run the 300 meters with gear in 65 seconds. He could make it.

"What the hell", Sonny called out as Clay made his move.

Without warning everything went apocalyptic, and a force at his back knocked him to the ground driving air out of his lungs and pushing his body into the dirt. Head bouncing off the rocky ground, Clay could feel his teeth rattle. Bells rang incessantly in his ears, essentially blocking out the sounds of blades whirling; kicking up dust and debris.

Air rushed out of his lungs and what was left was held hostage trapped and unmoving…he couldn't breathe.

His elbow exploded with pain as he tried to get up to see where Boss and Ray were; but something weighed him down and wouldn't let him up. Trying to lift up, and see what was happening Sonny yelled down into his face, "Stay down you idiot" and lay on top of him like a blanket. Attempting to push Sonny off, Clay gulped like a fish out of water – but all he could do was wheeze, unable to take in any air.

His lungs were frozen.

"Breathe" Sonny screamed in his ear. "Breathe. Don't panic.", he continued. "Just breathe." And so he did just that. Took in tiny wisps of air under the protection of Sonny's weight until he could finally feel his lungs expand; coughing out the dirt caught in his throat.

After a moment, head fuzzy, Clay gazed up to see Sonny standing over him, then reach down to pull him to his feet by the front of his vest. Next to them a wide gaping chasm yawned, its jagged edges, like teeth threatening to devour them.

Now able to breath normally, he felt Sonny take hold of his arm; pushing him toward the open doors of the helo. Screaming in pain he fell to his knees, elbow on fire; his legs like noodles; his head throbbing in sync with the pop, pop, pop of fire power whizzing around them.

Suddenly Ray was at his side, Boss at their backs laying down cover. "Let's go", Ray yelled, grabbing the back of his vest as Sonny pulled on his belt from behind – dragging him toward the helo.

Once there Brock and Trent reached out and pulled him aboard, unceremoniously dumping him on the floor as they reached out to pull in Sonny, Ray and last Boss – who lay down exhausted beside him.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Boss asked his voice harsh with worry and breathless from their mad dash to safety.

Clay wanted to say…I was thinking, I did not want to lose my family today; but he couldn't speak. His lungs felt tight in his chest; his elbow screamed at him, and he couldn't think clearly…the bells making it hard to concentrate.

All he wanted to do was be still, so he closed his eyes and let the wave of unconsciousness wash over him.

When he woke next, Clay found himself still on the floor of the helo – air rushing in from the open doors. Bravo and the rescuing Marines all sitting wearily around him. Trent sat next to him on the floor and asked insistently, "Where do you hurt?"

Frowning, he couldn't quite decide what to fess up to first. Then from above he heard Sonny reiterate, "Answer the question Ricky Schroder. Where are you hurt?"

But instead of answering the question, Clay reached up and grabbed hold of Sonny's vest and croaked out, "Thank you." Sonny had saved his life; pushed him out of the way of certain death. When Sonny reached down to squeeze his hand, Clay yelled out in pain. "I think my arms broken", he said and let darkness take him once again.

Hours later, out of harm's way; elbow plastered – resting in a sling; his essence floating above him in the ether…Clay felt no pain. Smiling about nothing in particular, he burrowed down in the hospital bed and wiggled his fingers.

A dislocated elbow, the doctor informed him.

"This could have been much worse", Trent said after pinching the pads of his fingers, making sure they went from white to pink. Satisfied, he smirked then deadpanned to his injury prone friend, "You are one lucky bastard."

Clay wouldn't have quite put it that way. Memories of Trent grabbing hold of his wrist and painfully levering his elbow back into place was something he wouldn't soon forget. He could still hear himself screaming as Boss held him down and the Marines looked on with sympathy.

Wiggling his fingers again, he laughed…for some reason finding this situation hilarious.

"What's so funny?" Sonny asked as he drew the partition aside and made his way to sit next to him.

"I don't know." Clay laughed, leaning back into his pillow.

After settling down in a comfortable position, Clay studied his friend closely and frowned. Sonny sat quietly, a pensive look on his face; elbows resting on his knees.

"You almost got yourself killed Clay." he began. "And I almost killed you trying to save your dumb ass. What the hell were you thinking?"

Clay shrugged his shoulders and kept his thoughts of abandonment to himself.

"You know" Sonny continued, "You've been a pain in my ass lately. I mean, more than usual." Staring Clay down he pushed for a response, "What's up with that?"

Clay shrugged again, unwilling to share his new plan of action, but instead said, "I'm trying to assert myself more; gain some experience here Sonny."

Nodding, Sonny tried to listen between the lines, but Clay's cocky attitude got in the way of hearing what the kid wasn't saying. Not getting anywhere he decided to just give up for now and instead admonished, "Well, you won't gain experience if you're dead Ricky Schroder."

"Copy that" Clay chuckled rubbing his cast; and after a beat asked with genuine curiosity, "Hey Sonny – whose Ricky Schroder?

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. I thought this was such a great episode, but felt it needed just a little bit more. I hope you like it!


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